Tuesday I began having some kind of sneezy fit that I decided was the beginning of a cold. This reminded me of the last time I was sick, January 2014. Horrible flu ~ had to stay home from work for a week+. So, I figured I’d better go get a flu shot since it was already October.
First I tried the clinic in my office building, but they wanted me to sign a form saying I’d pay their attorneys’ fees if my insurance refused the cost of the shot and they sued me. That seemed ridic since the shot was $20, which I would have simply handed to them. I said fuck it and went to Target, where they were happy to inject me, sans bullshit, and my insurance paid their cost. Afterward, I poasted to Facebook, mocking the anti-vax nutters.
Of course then I began to feel sick. The next day I was totes ill with fever and achies. I thought maybe I shouldn’t have taken the shot when I had cold symptoms, even though they said it was OK as long as I didn’t have fever. I had the chills all day and my temp was over 101 when I got home. A google search showed it wasn’t that unusual to get a fever after the shot, but 101 was kinda high. It broke at midnight though and I feel fine today (Friday). No cold symptoms either, so I guess my self-diag was wrong and I just had an allergy attack Tuesday.
Let me make it clear: one day of feeling sick was infinitely better than getting the flu again. Hopefully I won’t get the flu, though of course the shot doesn’t guarantee that, only lowers the odds. But I have never gotten the flu during years I’ve been vaccinated. (I skipped 2013/2014 ~ dumb!)
Yesterday was the first time ever I felt seriously ill and didn’t have my mother (d. 2008) or my ex-husband to whine at. (Until June of 2014, despite the divorce, the ex and I were in frequent contact and he was generally comforting, depending on the sitch, always for illness.) When I realized this, last night home alone, I began to cry, which of course made me feel worse. I made myself stop, drank a real Coke, and watched a totally strange movie with Humphrey Bogart and whatsherface. I think it was called Dark Passage. HB, convicted of murder, escaped from SQ in a barrel on a truck and Lauren picked up him, etc. Don’t want to spoil it, in case it’s been on your watchlist since 1947, so all I’m gonna say is Agnes Moorehead (Sam’s mother on Bewitched) rocked, which was fun.
As I huddled in my blankie, I realized that, for all their faults, both my mom and my ex were great to have around when I was sick. They’d immediately put aside whatever thing they were currently obsessing over and focus on me. I always felt very loved and cared about during illness with them. Not so much the rest of the time, but wev. (Should have been “sick” more often all along, eh?) It was tough feeling that bad alone yesterday ~ and very different from, say, simply having to rest at home for a weekend cuz of an enormous bruise or something. I could have DIED from the flu shot reaction! What if my fever kept rising and I couldn’t breathe? Thinking about that got me all panicky until I actually felt short of breath. Then I told myself to cut it the fuck out. I kept missing chunks of the movie because of my psychosomming, but I think I got the gist of it.
The weirdest thing about Dark Passage is that before HB’s facial surgery, the camera was “in his head” only. We saw everything from HB’s POV and never saw his face ~ just like it would be if you were actually experiencing what he did. I thought that was cool. But after the surgery, shooting was normal, and I realized they only did the POV thing as a cheat so they could pretend to alter his appearance without having to bother making him look different beforehand. Would that have been terribly difficult, in 1947? Idk.
But this flick mainly suffered from a ludicrous series of coinkydinks, as many films and books do. I just can’t deal with that anymore! One coinkydink per story is about all I can take. I’ve become nuts about this as well as writers’ financial delusions. What I mean by that is when someone writes a waitress living in a Park Avenue apartment or similar. I’ve seen this done in countless TV shows and movies. Characters with marginal jobs (or sometimes no jobs) have 99 problems, but apparently money isn’t one of them, which is totes absurd and ruins a story for me. Everyone in a sitcom can afford a huge, beautiful house! Stupid. It actually makes me appreciate The Brady Bunch, where they had the 3 boys sharing one bedroom and the 3 girls sharing another one. That’s more in the range of normal. Though they did have a live-in maid…
Tony the astronaut in IDOJ had a small, one-bedroom house. One-bedroom! Plus he would periodically get mad at Jeannie for not understanding how money works, which makes sense. Astronauts probably don’t make a huge salary and can’t afford dinners full of weird middle-eastern delicacies every night. And Roger, another astronaut, lived in a normal apartment, while DOCTOR Bellows had a larger, nicer house. Thank you, Sidney Sheldon (RIP).
I watched Marley & Me the otter night and again… young married peeps get columnist jobs at Florida newspapers and the next minute buy a big house with a pool. Where’d the down-payment come from? Then she quits working to raise their kids, his column gets popular, and bam bigger house. Next they’re in a freaking mansion in Pennsylvania when he gets a new job. How the fuck much do newspaper people make anyway? I realize this could have been during the boom bubble thinger, but it still irritates me. At least they could EXPLAIN how this happened. Like, oh wow, honey our house has tripled in value and we’ll have a huge DP for our move to Philly, or whatever… cue dog eating the tax return. “NO MARLEY!”
The most financially sound show ever is Breaking Bad, of course. Kudos to the writers!
I could have sworn that I blarghed about this before, but I can’t find any money ranty TV/movie poast. Maybe I commingled it with dating jabbery and nuked it during the Great Purge or one of the Lesser Purges. Possible. Anyway, consider yourselves properly ranted at now.
You’re welcome. Have a nice weekend.